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[Writing Game] Word of the Week! 1 prompt, 1 week, 1,000 words [UPDATED 1/27/16]

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Posts

  • bigrickcookbigrickcook Dord of Lance? OklahomaRegistered User regular
    There's a pun in there.

    Shub Shibborath

    http://panningforclouds.com
    Panning For Clouds, a writing blog dedicated to my fiction and writing columns! Updates at least twice a week.
  • bigrickcookbigrickcook Dord of Lance? OklahomaRegistered User regular
    For the record, I did write something for this, though it kinda trailed away from Shibboleth pretty heavily after the first few minutes. I may post it up anyway, but we'll see.

    http://panningforclouds.com
    Panning For Clouds, a writing blog dedicated to my fiction and writing columns! Updates at least twice a week.
  • VanityPantsVanityPants Gokai Red! Registered User regular
    I'm in the middle of writing something for this, too! I'll get it up tonight after work.

    Going to put the new word up tomorrow and keep to the Wednesday schedule for 2016.

    Gokai_zpsdvyiviz0.png
  • bigrickcookbigrickcook Dord of Lance? OklahomaRegistered User regular
    Come on down to Rick's Rec Room and partake of Shibboleth!

    https://forums.penny-arcade.com/discussion/comment/34228879/#Comment_34228879

    http://panningforclouds.com
    Panning For Clouds, a writing blog dedicated to my fiction and writing columns! Updates at least twice a week.
  • chiasaur11chiasaur11 Never doubt a raccoon. Registered User regular
    edited January 2016
    Aw, crap. Forgot all about this until just now. Well, I've got a few hours until the next word comes up. I'll try to get something by then.

    It'll probably be pretty short, and not that good. I like to think I work best under pressure, but... probably balanced that less well than I could have this time.

    Edit: Got it. 340 words. At least I managed short.

    Presented for your consideration: Shibboleth!
    “Hello, neighbor!”

    “Hey, neighbor. Funny seeing you out here.”

    “Not as funny as this weather. It’s nice, though.”

    “Real nice. If it doesn’t rain.”

    “It does that sometimes, you know. Heh. Ever told you about my daughter’s wedding? There we all were, dressed in our finest, and this big old rainstorm hit right in the middle.”

    “I think you mentioned it once. Minister wouldn’t stop?”

    “Heh. You know the man. Yeah. Had to stand there, soaking wet, as he went through the whole ceremony. But you have to be there for your family. Am I right?”

    “Of course you’re right. I mean, I know my son’s big sportsball game is important to me. I’d never miss out on one. I know all the sports rules.”

    “Like the ritual sacrifice at the end of the game? I always thought those helped bring the community together.”

    “I was thinking of the offside fly rule. But your rule is also good. It’s all the rules that make sports ball the sport of the sporting sportsman.”

    “Sportsmen are the future of sports. Also sportswomen.”

    “Of course. I would never forget about sportswomen. They’re important too. Speaking of two, that’s the second number.”

    “The number after the first. If you don’t count fractions.”

    “And if you don’t count fractions…”

    “Fractions don’t count!”

    “I knew it! Hands up!”

    “...What?”

    “You were real clever. Got almost halfway through. Real nice try, for a dirty Whig. But every true patriot would know that there’s a question mark after “Fractions don’t count” if the other party says a minister was at the wedding instead of a priest! It’s the most basic mistake in the world! Any last words?”

    “I thought that only applied on Tuesdays!”

    “...Actually, it might. Shit. I can’t remember. Uh… well, one of us is probably a traitor, right? I mean, just playing the odds?”

    “...Fuck. I don’t know. Maybe? Fuck’s sake. We need a better Shibboleth. At least a shorter one.”

    Exactly what a traitor would say.”

    chiasaur11 on
    bigrickcook
  • KCWiseKCWise Barefoot in my Husband's KitchenRegistered User regular
    Wow, Rick. That was excellent! All-engrossing and beautiful. I love the way you give the reader all sorts of dubious feeling and then also give us intriguing (even tantalizing) relief during and after the vault opening. I don't have a lot of critical notes at the moment, but I plan to re-read after kiddo drop-off.

  • VanityPantsVanityPants Gokai Red! Registered User regular
    Late, but present!
    A Hall has burned on Hallow Hill
    And though the walls are kindling
    And though the people there are dead
    The hall has never stopped burning
    The people have never stopped screaming.


    Here is what I knew: I knew that the sun must rise in the east, that the wind must blow. I knew that there is such a thing as evil, that it lives in the hearts of men, and I knew that Skinnter bastard must die screaming.

    “It’s not a kind fate, Vaslandr. I don’t wish it on anyone.” I remembered Auntie saying that as we sat on the shore when I was just a boy. It was a dark, black as sin day and the wind threw sand in the air and burned my eyes. I’d been down on the beach chasing wild dogs and I’d fallen from a ledge. Auntie mopped up the blood from my scraped head and used an old comb of bone to rake the tangles out of my knotted hair. It hurt, but I didn’t say it. “But you have to be careful. You have to stay alive. You have to grow up, be strong, and kill that Skinnter bastard and all his kin for what he did.”

    That memory was my first memory in all the world.

    After the hall burned, I moved away. Hallow Hill was on Cliffside and Auntie lived in the city where Jarl Blackwood ruled and nothing smelled of smoke, or ash, or piss and blood. During the day I didn’t cry, because crying wasn’t The Way—the blood price was The Way, and it still needed to be paid. But at night, no one watched me. Not Auntie, not cousin Sara, and probably not even the gods. So I cried.

    I cried because sometimes I still remembered the fire. I cried because I couldn’t really remember Da, but for the belt he took to me. I cried because he was gone, and I was sad—I cried because he was gone, and my life was better for it. In the mornings I chased the pigs and cattle about for Auntie and in the afternoons I could go out and watch the longships come in, their bellies fat with trade, and dream of going off with them one day.

    And on those days when I went off and watched the ships, Auntie would come and take me up on the hill and point out to the east and say “there,” and she would look at me. “There is Hallow Hill. Do you remember? That man took your brothers, your sisters, your father. He took your future. You have to take it back.”

    “I can make a new future,” I said, and even then, five years later, I knew it was the wrong thing to say. She hit me once, hard, to let me know I’d done wrong, and I swallowed down the blood.

    “There is no future for you until you finish what they started. That’s our way. Blood is paid with blood. Understand?” Maybe. “The shite-lovers in the east would say to take a gold price for your family. Fifty for your father, ten each for every child under the age of ten, but does that make it better? Does it? No. The Hill-Folk in the west would say to forgive them. Their ways are backwards and foolish. We know the truth. The only way to get rid of that burning fire in your stomach is to quench it with blood. Understand?”

    But I didn’t feel a burning pit. I didn’t feel anything at all. But I listened to Auntie, because she knew. I sat by her feet and she told me about family. She told me again and again about the fires, about how she found my father, about how she found me in blankets soaked in piss, too young to run, too dumb and to die. She talked and talked and I pictured a fire up on Hallow Hill, burning still.

    The truth? I felt nothing. Nothing but numbness, nothing but empty space swelling up inside of me, and I wondered if there should be something more. I could see the burning, but I couldn’t feel the flames.

    And so one day I left my Auntie’s farm. I left Jarl Blackwood. I left the pigs and the cattle and I took my axe and climbed up Hallow Hill. The men up there were many, but oh, my arm was strong, and the gods will ever watch a man taking revenge. And I looked up at the sky as the grey clouds poured over and I told the gods to watch, to look, to show me the way, and I brought my axe down clean—again, again, again.

    I tore down the door that they put up to replace our old door. I killed the mother, I killed the father, I killed every Skinnter in that house but one: a small boy, curled in the corner, his breeches soaked in piss. And I stood there wet with blood and feeling nothing much of anything. I looked from father to mother, from sister to brother, and I wondered what it all meant.

    “Go,” I said to the boy, and when he didn’t have the sense to run I picked him up by the collar and put him out the door. “Go! And remember it was Vaslandr Eladune who killed your family.”

    He ran, or maybe he did, but I didn’t watch. I went back inside. I found a chair by the fire, covered in blood-soaked furs, and I sat, and I waited. I waited for the boy to grow, for flesh to fatten with muscle, for an arm strong enough to swing an axe. I waited for the circle to continue and to take me with it, and until then I closed my eyes and dreamed of the longships, their bellies fat with trade, and what might have been if I had been born a Hill-Folk, or a shite-lover from the east…

    Here is what I know: I know that the sun must rise in the east, that the wind must blow. I know that there is such a thing as evil, that it lives in the hearts of men. I know that the hall still burns, up on Hallow Hill, and it always will, until the day I die.

    Gokai_zpsdvyiviz0.png
    bigrickcook
  • VanityPantsVanityPants Gokai Red! Registered User regular
    And now, we move on!

    The word of the day for WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 13th is...
    Bellweather
    noun [bel-weth-er]

    Definitions for bellwether
    a person or thing that shows the existence or direction of a trend; index.
    a wether or other male sheep that leads the flock, usually bearing a bell.
    a person or thing that assumes the leadership or forefront, as of a profession or industry: Paris is a bellwether of the fashion industry.

    I'm working on reading your stories over my lunch break now, so I'll have your crits up after work tonight!

    Also, I hope everyone uses the second definition for bellweather so we can all write about some cool sheep.

    Gokai_zpsdvyiviz0.png
    bigrickcook
  • KCWiseKCWise Barefoot in my Husband's KitchenRegistered User regular
    Hey now... that might be just the word to kill this funky block!

    VanityPantsbigrickcook
  • VanityPantsVanityPants Gokai Red! Registered User regular
    The critiques are in--get 'em while they're hot!

    @chiasaur11
    A fun/ny little piece, here! Not much to say since it's rather sparse, being just a bit of a thing. Doesn't seem to be much to it beyond the absurdity of the situation, I suppose, but nothing wrong with that. I did picture it being a conversation between two people, neighbors maybe, but then when the question mark came up I thought maybe it's people in a chatroom, but then I figured it must be people in person because of some of the dialogue earlier in.

    Guessing it just needs some set dressing or to clarify question mark as an inflection.

    Anyway, that's really getting too involved, probably. It was fun! I laughed. The last line was a nice addition, especially.

    @bigrickcook
    As seems usual, you've come up with a neat idea and in a short period of time managed to give us a glimpse into a really interesting world!

    I would have liked to have seen some more details fleshed out, particularly in the first half of the story, to really bring us in and attach us to Drey. The details we're given feel a little dry and technical, and in that moment when he's just seeing everything for the first time, I'd like to be drawn into his emotional state and the setting more.

    The dialogue between Drey and Sen feels a little hard/technical because of the lack of detail and how quickly it comes to its points, I think.

    All that said, I liked it! I thought you did a good job of capturing the mood from the second half in--the actual vault itself was exhilarating and interesting, and you give is a good picture of a interesting and weird little world.

    Gokai_zpsdvyiviz0.png
    bigrickcook
  • bigrickcookbigrickcook Dord of Lance? OklahomaRegistered User regular
    @chiasaur11 -
    I'm with VP, there's not a lot to say about it. I had fun with the artificial nature of it and I loved the last few lines, which sort of tie the whole thing together for me. I didn't have the same ambiguity as VP did, since it started talking about "out here", and the "Hands up!" stuff seemed fairly indicative of like front-yard greetings. I thought it did a good job at conveying the sense of Shibboleth, and like VP, I laughed!

    @VanityPants -
    What a dark tale! I had a kind of issue with the names just not jiving well, but that might be more me than anything else. Vaslandr sounds so Elvish to me.

    I think you do a great job with the kinds of negative reinforcement that shape entire worldviews and cause people to do bad things because it's what they truly believe, or because they just can't imagine an alternative.

    I didn't get much of a sense of a cohesive world, though. Very insular-feeling as compared to the other places that are mentioned with their other ways, which I suppose could be the point, but something about it just didn't feel real enough to me. A bit too much of the artifice even for the word of the week? I dunno. I liked it! But parts of it were weird.

    http://panningforclouds.com
    Panning For Clouds, a writing blog dedicated to my fiction and writing columns! Updates at least twice a week.
    VanityPants
  • chiasaur11chiasaur11 Never doubt a raccoon. Registered User regular
    Might as well try some crits too.

    @VanityPants
    Yeah, that was a bleak one. I liked it. Ending was nicely cyclical, with the lead taking the only way he could see to balance his guilt, allowing the cycle to continue because he's been taught that's the only way his people can have justice.

    I do kind of see what Rick meant. The story's main section of the world feels like it's just the two families, slaughtering back and forth across the ages. Unlike Rick, I kind of like it. There's a little nightmare poetry in the simplicity.

    @bigrickcook
    Lesser key of Solomon, eh?

    I mean, unless I miss my guess, that was an inspiration. Well, not so much that as the whole Solomon myth stuff. Choosing wisdom over all others being from the Bible, and then taking his habit of demon summoning in other sources for a little more of the setup. Made it feel like a somewhat more sinister choice than the original.

    And the ending definitely felt less than 100% good times. Nicely worrysome without going too far.

    VanityPantsbigrickcook
  • bigrickcookbigrickcook Dord of Lance? OklahomaRegistered User regular
    I confess I don't know much about the Key of Solomon or the Lesser Key for that matter (or even the Solomon myth beyond a super basic overview), but upon doing some hasty research I can totally see the parallels.

    The main takeaway is that the entities inside are greedy to escape, and many will do whatever they can to convince the humans that come into the Vault to accept them. Most of them are not "evil" in any classic sense, just selfish. Some are quite possibly a little mad, too. But just because all wish to leave, they do not by the same measure wish to be trapped with a vessel that is too mundane, so many of the entities bide their time, waiting for the strong, the noble, the wise, the beautiful, so that they might experience more. Sen is unique among them all because she wants so much more than to avoid the mundane life. She has never chosen a child because they are fickle and their temperaments change. She is the only one capable of piercing the veil of the Vault before it cracks wide and so she has watched humans. It is her guidance that brought the other entities to this place, understanding the potential to escape. So when Drey comes along--an adult by any useful metric, a foreigner ignorant of the ritual, an almost carnal lust for knowledge--she takes the chance she has been waiting for all these years.

    So yeah, Drey is ultimately a pawn to Sen, but she needs him to succeed so that she can succeed, and her plans for the world of man are not so bueno. Maybe not so evil, but definitely not "good".


    Thanks for your crits, guys! I think I definitely agree with you, VP, about some of the fringe elements that weren't working for you. I might pull this down in a couple months and work on it a bit more for possible submission later in the year. I don't have enough "fantasy" in my portfolio for submitting so something on the fringes of that could be good.

    http://panningforclouds.com
    Panning For Clouds, a writing blog dedicated to my fiction and writing columns! Updates at least twice a week.
  • VanityPantsVanityPants Gokai Red! Registered User regular
    @bigrickcook

    You'll be happy to know I made a new character for D&D today and he's a half-elf named Vaslandr!

    Gokai_zpsdvyiviz0.png
    bigrickcook
  • chiasaur11chiasaur11 Never doubt a raccoon. Registered User regular
    edited January 2016
    Looking at the hour, seems I'm going short and snappy this week. Ah well. To put things off for too long is human, to desperately scrabble to finish them is... also human. Ah well.


    Bellweather
    There were a dozen sheep on top of the hill, grazing in concert.

    Now, normally, I would have ignored them. Normally. But I was playing babysitter to a bunch of kindergarteners (don’t ask, long story, and she didn’t even give me a ‘Hey, thanks’ afterwards, so I’d prefer not to think of her, I mean it, at all, thanks.) And if the class wanted to talk about sheep for ten minutes, I was going to show them some sheep just so they’d have a few new variations on “Sheep are fluffy” before I lost my mind.

    “Hey look! Sheep!”

    Not my brightest comment, I’ll admit, but it got the kids to look, which meant it did a lot better than most of my attempts at conversation.

    “Oh.”

    “Yes! Real sheep! Like you wanted to see earlier!”

    “Oh.”

    Some kids just don’t impress. But at least some of them were looking in the general direction of the sheep, so, as I said, I did my job.

    One of the kids, girl with snot going right out her nose, wish I could forget the sight, raised her hand, like she was in school, so I gave her a nod.

    “What do you want to ask?”

    “Who’s the big sheep?”

    I looked out at the pack, and tried to remember names from crappy children’s edutainment shows so I could at least have a confident response, but when I saw the bell on its neck, I had a better idea. Actually teaching kids something looks better than lying when you’re trying to defend your actions later, nine times out of ten, so I pulled out one of my brain’s more useless pieces of trivia.

    “That’s the bellweather. He’s kind of the boss sheep. Where he goes, the others follow.”

    “Like you?”

    “Yeah, kind of like me with all of you. He has the job of watching over the other sheep, making the tough calls. When the sheep go one place or another, he goes first. When he stops, all the sheep stop. I think there’s a lesson for all of us there, or at least for all of you. Just watch. Any second now…”

    I gestured up at the sheep and smiled. The unruly mob seemed to have more than its share of eyes getting wide, which I thought at that moment was a sign of my talent in wrangling the future of America. Then I looked up.

    The bellweather was walking off the top of the hill. And all the other sheep were following it. Right. Off. A. Cliff.

    “What lesson?”

    I coughed.

    “That sheep are really stupid. Let’s go.”

    The rest of the day did not go much better. I blame the sheep.

    chiasaur11 on
    VanityPants
  • VanityPantsVanityPants Gokai Red! Registered User regular
    Better late than never is our motto, I think!

    Here's mine:
    I didn’t ask for this life.

    Maybe it’s a fine thing to be a ruler. Marakeep always said it was—he said the women are more beautiful for rulers, the time sweeter, somehow. But Marakeep is long dead, now. The wolves took him in the dark hours, with no fence or brick or border to keep them out. I woke to the shrieking, shrieking, shrieking in the night, and in the morning we found him, belly open, glassy eyed.

    So what good is it, to rule?

    Since the great reckoning when the walls fell, we have been exiles in our own kingdom. Forced to sleep in the shadow of trees, to live in the land of the enemy. The forests I once looked to from the top of my hill, dreaming of days when I might shake off the yoke of rulership and live wild and free, are before me now, and they are darker and stranger than I had dreamed them.

    “The path ahead is blocked,” Blessl says as she comes back over the ridge, wind-blewn and dirt-strewn. Fleet, they call Blessl—beautiful, I say, but a ruler mustn’t love just one. He loves all. Or so they say. The others mumble amongst themselves, unpleased at the news. “A farmer cut down a tree and left it in the path.”

    “We can’t go around it?” Clau asks, ever the nervous one, head down, big eyes roaming. Slowly, slowly, night is settling across the land. The colors are running from the sky, streaks of red chasing out the light, and soon the wolves will come.

    “Too steep,” Blessl says. “What do we do?”

    They all look at me. I think, if it were just me, I would hide and wait for the farmer to come back, to move the tree, to carry on. But we are many and we cannot hide. We must move on to greener pastures, we must find food, and shelter outside this land of mud and rock we’ve found ourselves in, and I must trust that we’ll find it ahead.

    “We’ll go ahead, through the cave. It comes out the other side, we’ll just have to be quick,” I say.

    “Do you know it does, or do you guess?” Kett asks, shaking the cold off.

    “It does,” I say.

    “I don’t like this.”

    “We have to be strong,” Blessl says, better than I could, and she sets off first. My brave, beautiful Blessl. I wish that I could be as brave, and I head off after her. I wonder why I was chosen and not her. I wonder a lot of things these days. I come up alongside her and lean against her as we walk, trudging through mud together.

    We come upon the cave together, big stones jutting out of the ground like crowded teeth. Blessl goes to move, but I enter first. Appearance is everything—Marakeep taught me that. Or at least I think he did. It’s so hard to remember, sometimes… But I enter the cave all the same, and the damp sinks into my bones and it’s cold but I bite my teeth together, I don’t let myself shiver or show, and the others take heart. They follow.

    Something finds us in the cave. Of course it does. The path diverges left and right, and Marakeep is scouting ahead right when we hear her cry, and I know I remember that cry from Marakeep. It’s a bad one, a blood cry.

    “What do we do, what do we do,” the others say, stomping around, crowding around the wall, crying.

    “Go, go!” I say. “Go the other way, I will go get Blessl. I will find you.”

    “We can’t go without you!” someone cries. “How will we find the way?”

    “We’ll be lost!”

    “Go!” I cry, and I do it in a voice not my own. A ruler’s voice. Booming, and brassy, and full of thunder, and they scatter, racing ahead even as I give chase to the distant sound of echoes.

    And there lies Blessl, curled around her wounds. Her fur is matted down with blood, her eyes are hazy, losing focus, but she sees me still. She sees me. Even if she dies before she says my name, even if she doesn’t say she loves me, I tell her I love her. I tell her I’ll remember her. She may be just a sheep, but we all are. Ruler or not, we all live, and love, and die, and she lived most, and loved most, and died too soon.

    The drake hisses. It’s all scale and muscle, coiled in a ball, red and gold and gleaming in the little light peeping through the cracks of the ceiling. And I would leave. I would run, follow the pounding of my heart, but Blessl is there and I can’t leave her.

    “Hst sti di va!” the drake says, its tongue snaking out, and when I don’t answer it pounces.

    I tumble, I roll, collect dirt and stones in my fur, my bell jingling, echoing in the cave. But I scramble back up. The drake is bleeding where Blessl has managed to kick a rock and shed its new-scales and I aim for the same spot. I leap forward as the drake bears down, the heart-stopping force of those big jaws hovering over me. But I’m faster! I strike true, right in the blood-spot, and the drake howls and hisses and there’s blood all over me but I don’t care.

    I don’t care. The drake is dying, too late, and I’m running back to Blessl but she’s already stopped breathing. I curl up against her, our fur sticky with blood, her body still the smallest bit warm. I put my head in the dirt-and-stone floor under her head and I cry where no one will see me. I want to stay. I want to stay there in the cave, with Blessl. She should have been the leader. She should’ve gotten the bell.

    One of the others is calling from somewhere far, far away, and I know I have to go. I know they need me.

    No, I didn’t ask for this, and once I die no one will remember me. Someone else will pick up the bell. That’s how life goes. Someone else chose me, someone else put the bell around my neck, and in the end someone else will kill me.

    Gokai_zpsdvyiviz0.png
  • VanityPantsVanityPants Gokai Red! Registered User regular
    LO! Another dread beast has fallen, and now we do as tradition dictates--we build our new home amongst the bones of the old.

    The word of the day for WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 20th, 2016 is...
    EXPATIATE
    verb | ek-SPAY-shee-ayt

    1 : to move about freely or at will : wander
    2 : to speak or write at length or in detail

    Gokai_zpsdvyiviz0.png
    bigrickcook
  • bigrickcookbigrickcook Dord of Lance? OklahomaRegistered User regular
    Man, those definitions are so random compared to each other. Although a little story about wandering may be just what I want right now.

    http://panningforclouds.com
    Panning For Clouds, a writing blog dedicated to my fiction and writing columns! Updates at least twice a week.
  • VanityPantsVanityPants Gokai Red! Registered User regular
    CRITIQUE(S)!

    @chiasaur11
    Okay, I loved the ending. It took me off guard and I seriously laughed out loud at it.

    Another light, quick story where I'm not sure there's a bunch to say.

    The first half is maybe a little drawn out with the main character's rambling internal thoughts (as much as something can be drawn out in such a short space, anyway). You could trim it down there and turn it into an ultra-light flash piece, for sure.

    Gokai_zpsdvyiviz0.png
  • chiasaur11chiasaur11 Never doubt a raccoon. Registered User regular
    If anyone asks, my stories are getting worse so you don't feel so bad about my persistence.

    Expatiate
    The best way to understand an idea, in my experience, is seldom the direct approach. Oh, some can muddle through by ramming their thick skulls against a concept until it breaks or they do, but it always seemed simpler to go around, to see every angle of a concept until you find the weakness, and take the simple route from there.

    At any rate, that was my explanation for the morning’s affair. I wanted to think about a… problem (in my line of work, discussing a situation after is almost as much of a difficulty as the initial, well, problem) so I left for a walk. Clearing my head, that kind of thing. I admit free movement is a bit of a luxury these days, but I’ve been allowed a little more thanks to my station, and here we are. Or, there I was. You wouldn’t come here until later.

    You were quite clever. I’ll give you that, right off. I mean, the routes you took, they weren’t reasonable at a glance. I had to poke around the sides. A few broken branches here, a disrupted transmission packet there. I would never have thought one person could spread his plans so wide in our era.

    You thought things through. Another thing I’ll grant you. Oh, you didn’t know what you were thinking of, you didn’t think through all the details, you didn’t know all the details, but you were as clever as we allowed you to be, and as close to free as anyone I’ve met in some time. I almost feel sorry for this.

    But I was free to move, and that meant you were doomed from the start.

    You know what expatiate means? It’s thinking through an idea and it’s moving freely. They’re the same concept at heart. A free body and a free mind. Both such dangerous things. A little motion, and…

    Well. You see why we couldn’t leave you to it.

    Seriously, this one... oof. I apologize in advance.

  • VanityPantsVanityPants Gokai Red! Registered User regular
    What's this, we've got a new day in the mail? Huh.

    Well, let me dig around here a bit...

    Ahh, here it is.

    The WORD OF THE WEEK for WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 27th is...
    Zeugma
    noun | ZOOG-muh

    The use of a word to modify or govern two or more words in such a way that it applies to each in a different sense or makes sense with only one (as in "opened the door and her heart to the homeless boy")

    An interesting one, for sure. Make of it what you will.

    Gokai_zpsdvyiviz0.png
  • chiasaur11chiasaur11 Never doubt a raccoon. Registered User regular
    What's this, we've got a new day in the mail? Huh.

    Well, let me dig around here a bit...

    Ahh, here it is.

    The WORD OF THE WEEK for WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 27th is...
    Zeugma
    noun | ZOOG-muh

    The use of a word to modify or govern two or more words in such a way that it applies to each in a different sense or makes sense with only one (as in "opened the door and her heart to the homeless boy")

    An interesting one, for sure. Make of it what you will.

    Well.

    Not sure if I can do anything with this one. Which... is it too braggy if I say that's saying something? Because it feels like it's saying something.

  • KCWiseKCWise Barefoot in my Husband's KitchenRegistered User regular
    .... that is confusing as all hell...

  • VanityPantsVanityPants Gokai Red! Registered User regular
    Tim-Gunn-MAKE-IT-WORK.gif

    Gokai_zpsdvyiviz0.png
  • bigrickcookbigrickcook Dord of Lance? OklahomaRegistered User regular
    I love zeugma but it is indeed difficult to make work.

    @chiasaur11 Let's just make wordplay entries! The Zoog Soog Riot.

    http://panningforclouds.com
    Panning For Clouds, a writing blog dedicated to my fiction and writing columns! Updates at least twice a week.
  • VanityPantsVanityPants Gokai Red! Registered User regular
    I have faith in you all.

    Well, some of you.

    Well, one of you.

    But I'm not going to say which one.

    Gokai_zpsdvyiviz0.png
  • KCWiseKCWise Barefoot in my Husband's KitchenRegistered User regular
    Oh damn! We had to bring Uncle Tim into this and errythang?

  • chiasaur11chiasaur11 Never doubt a raccoon. Registered User regular
    I have faith in you all.

    Well, some of you.

    Well, one of you.

    But I'm not going to say which one.

    Don't worry.

    You don't have to.

  • VanityPantsVanityPants Gokai Red! Registered User regular
    KCWise wrote: »
    Oh damn! We had to bring Uncle Tim into this and errythang?

    tim-gunn-make-it-work-mind-blown.gif

    Gokai_zpsdvyiviz0.png
    KCWise
  • chiasaur11chiasaur11 Never doubt a raccoon. Registered User regular
    Thought you could stop me, didn't you? Thought that THIS time, old Chia would just curl up and die.

    You thought wrong.

    203 words. Zeugma.
    “There’s no way that’s a word.”

    “I’m telling you, it’s a word. Zeugma. Using one word in two different senses in the same deployment. It’s also worth eighteen points, which with the triple word score…”

    “No. Screw you. I refuse to believe it. You made it up, you made up the definition, and there’s no way you can use it.”

    “She dropped her gavel and the case.”

    “See, that’s using what you claim the meaning is, but you aren’t using the word. You’re just using the definition, and we didn’t really need a word for that. At all.”

    “We don’t need a lot of words, but we have them anyway. They take dictionary space and time, but they exist all the same.”

    “And you’re stalling. Find me a book with Zeugma.”

    “I can find dozens. Hell, I can find Zeugma in Star Trek. ‘You are free to execute your laws, and your citizens, as you see fit’”

    “I said the WORD, not using the word.”

    “Fine. Give me a dictionary. Oh, wait. You burned all of them when I won last time.”

    “I’ll take that as a confession and an eighteen point penalty.”

    “I never should have let you have matches.”

    In reality, when you have once devoted your life to your enterprises, you are no longer the equal of other men, or, rather, other men are no longer your equals, and whosoever has taken this resolution, feels his strength and resources doubled.

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